THE BETRAYAL
*CHAPTER 1: THE BETRAYAL*
The ultrasound gel was still cold on my stomach when my husband's phone lit up.
It was a picture of my sister. In our bed.
"Thabo?" My voice cracked. "Why is Naledi sending you..."
Thabo Nkosi, my husband of three years, didn't even flinch. He just looked at my swollen belly - eight months pregnant with twins - like I was a stranger.
"It's time you knew, Lerato," he said calmly, too calmly. "Naledi and I... we fell in love. It wasn't planned."
The doctor was still holding the ultrasound probe, frozen in awkward silence. My babies' heartbeats were thudding loudly on the monitor. _Thump-thump. Thump-thump._
"You fell in love with my SISTER?" I whispered. "In MY house? While I'm carrying YOUR children?"
"I was going to tell you after you gave birth," he said, adjusting his R2 million watch - the one I bought him when my small business started doing well. "But Naledi is pregnant too. Two months. She can't wait."
The room spun. My sister. Two months pregnant. That meant... while I was vomiting every morning with my twins, while I was begging him to come to appointments, he was sleeping with her.
"Where will I go?" I asked. My mother died last year. My father disowned me for marrying Thabo against his wishes. Naledi was all I had left.
Thabo slid a brown envelope across the doctor's desk. "There is R50,000. And divorce papers. Sign them, Lerato. My family does not want drama. Naledi is... more suitable to be a Nkosi wife anyway."
More suitable. Because she wasn't carrying twins that would "ruin my body." Because she had a degree from UCT. Because she wasn't "just a girl from Hillcrest who got lucky."
I didn't sign. I stood up, wiped the gel off my own stomach - because no one else would - and walked out of that private hospital in Umhlanga, barefoot, with my hospital gown still on.
That was yesterday.
Today, I'm sitting on a cold bench at King Shaka Airport, my bag with two baby blankets, my twins kicking like they know their father just erased them. I have R200 left. My water just broke.
And a black Maybach just stopped in front of me. The window rolled down.
"Lerato Dlamini?" A deep voice said. "My name is Zamo Mthembu. I think you're carrying something that belongs to me."
I looked up. God. The man was... I had seen him on Forbes Africa. Zamo Mthembu, 34, billionaire. Owner of Mthembu Towers - that building glowing behind him in the picture I had seen. Cold, ruthless, never photographed with a woman.
"What are you talking about?" I cried, clutching my belly as another contraction hit.
He stepped out of the car, in a black suit that cost more than Thabo's entire life. He looked at my belly, then at me, his eyes softening for just a second.
"Six months ago. The charity gala at the Beverly Hills Hotel. You don't remember me, but I never forgot you. You had too much wine. I... we..."
My blood ran cold. The gala. Thabo was supposed to take me but cancelled last minute for Naledi's birthday dinner. I went alone. I drank. I woke up in a hotel room alone with no memory.
"You're lying," I whispered. "My twins are Thabo's!"
Zamo knelt down, ignoring his expensive pants on the dirty pavement, and gently placed his hand on my belly. The twins kicked - hard - against his hand.
"Those are Mthembu babies," he said quietly. "And you, Lerato... you're coming with me. My jet is waiting. No child of mine will be born on a bench while that bastard is with your sister."
A contraction ripped through me so hard I screamed.
Zamo didn't hesitate. He scooped me up - all 85 kilograms of pregnant, betrayed woman - like I weighed nothing, and carried me to his car.
"To Entabeni Private," he barked to his driver. "And call Dr. Khumalo. Tell him the Mthembu heirs are coming. Tonight."
As the car sped through Durban, with the city lights blurring past and my sister's betrayal still fresh on my skin, I realized one thing:
Thabo Nkosi thought he had left me with nothing.
But I was about to give birth to billionaire heirs.
And Zamo Mthembu... he looked at me like he had been waiting for this moment his whole life.
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